When you're locked up in here for life, you learn to welcome the little freedoms.

Trust me-that toilet and me were best friends for the first few days I was here.

I'd been so set on an escape that was now impossible, and the only form of freedom left to me was death. It was a terrible kind of freedom—one from misery and pain, yes, but also one from lightness and laughter and life. It was an absence of everything.

That mush plays havoc downstairs, you know?

This place is full of unwritten rules.

The world is an inferno. It will burn until every nation has fallen, until all who oppose us are dead, until people see the true light.

It's one of the things I love most about being an author - seeing the different covers from each country.